


KoolAid

by Army C (arh581958)



Series: #GallavichWeek [11]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Baseball, DILF!Mickey, Dad!Ian, Dad!Mickey, Day 4 - Together/Married/Happy Ending/Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Family, Father and Son, Fluff, GW2017A, Gallavich, Gallavich Week, Gallavich Week 2017, Jealous!Ian, M/M, Mickey Uses His Words, Mickey tries not to curse but fails, Modern family - Freeform, Picnics, Possessive!Ian, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11064204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Army%20C
Summary: Damn f*cking Gallagher for trying to tag-outtheirown son! It's only baseball!And the only thing he's got with him? Fucking KoolAid.(Or: the one featuring all the Gallavich!DomesticAU cliches--name it, I've got it)





	KoolAid

**Author's Note:**

> Written for: Gallavich Week 2017 A Day 4 - Together/Married/Happy Ending/Domestic
> 
> Again, I must sincerely apologize for being a day late. Expect that Day 5 will be late for a day as well. I didn't have time to write in-between sites today. Urgh. 
> 
> NOTE: Written and posted purely on my phone. Not edited!

Mickey hates picnics. It’s one of those things that snooty Northsiders did on weekend—lots of whiny kids, housewives catching in the latest gossips, and absolutely no booze. If you ask him, that’s wasting a shit ton of good food.

Family Day, they called it.

He’s behaving himself—sitting under the shade with a cup of now-warm red kiolaid in his hand. He even dressed for the part: loose black button-up, sleeves folded up to his elbows and three buttons undone because it’s fucking hot-as-balls, his cleanest pair of jeans, and his workman boots. He shined the boots too.

Ian and Yevgeny have joined the parent-student baseball game out on the field. It’s the picture of a perfectly happy childhood that Ian and he never had. Yev deserves better—things like this.

Mickey was skeptical about enrolling Yevgeny in a preppy Northside school, but he understands now why Ian had been so adamant about it. Protection and a good education are only part of it. The other half’s all about discovering how the part of human kind works—the one that doesn’t have to do all the bad shit.

Ian and he are changing their lives one day at a time. For now, it’s enough.

On the field, Yevgeny’s next up to bat. He looks back to Mickey with cheeky little grin before taking his place on the plate. Ian, on the other hand, is on the opposing team—pitching, because life’s just like that sometimes. The grin he sends Mickey is exactly the one from Yevgeny.

Mickey can’t help the little flutter in his chest at that. He lifts up his red cup to both of them.

“Your boy?” A women beside him asks. He remembers her vaguely as one of the other teachers in another class.

“ _Yep_ ,” he says, popping the ‘p’ sound. Then, consciously trying to be polite, he adds, “You, uh, wanna see down?“

It seems like the right thing to say because she smiles and takes a sit under the tree beside him. She’s not _bad looking_ per se,  a bit on the young side maybe—fresh from college. She’s got dark blond hair, all in big round curls around her face, lightly tan skin, and looking every bit the gossip girl that Mickey _does not_ watch.

“You’re not joining them?“

Mickey barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, man, ain’t played that shi—uh, shizz, since I was in lil’ league. S’Yev’s game now. Fu—kids got the thing for it.”

As if on cue, Yev hits the ball smack in the center. The ball pops up, up, up in the air. All his teammates cheer wildly. Whats-his-face, one if the PTA dads, shouts for Yev to run.

Mickey, though, catches the glint in Ian’s eye. Motherfuckers gonna try to out his fucking kid. “No! Don’t! Ya motherfu—Ian!”

The crazy bastard’s already got his hand up in the air, ready to catch the fucking out their kid. Ian doesn’t though. He reacts to Mickey’s voice at the last second and the ball bounces off the top of his mitt, saving Yevgeny.

All of Ian’s teammates boo while all of Yev’s cheer even louder. Mickey rises to his knees in triumph, hands forming finger guns which fire at Ian.

Ian mimes getting shot before turning around to chase the ball. There’s a seven-year-old on second base meaning, he can’t throw too hard. The ball falls off from the glove because the kid forgot to cover. Yev jumps onto the square sandbag with a loud whoop.

“Yes! That’s my solnyshko! Show’em who’s boss! Yeah!” Mickey yells, throwing his hands up in the air. Of course, the koolaid in hand splashes all over the place.

A distressed yelp goes off beside him.

“Oh shi—iz! I—fuck! I got shit all over ya. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Yev’s gonna fuckin’ slice me.” What’s worse is Ian’s probably going to be _pissed_ at him _and_ withhold orgasms. “We gots’ta clean ya.” Need to bury the evidence. Leave no trace.

Blondie beside him is painted a pretty shade of pink from the juice. She looks shocked that he offered. “Uh, yeah, sure. We can—we can maybe get some towels?”

Mickey scrambles to his feet, and even offers a helping hand because he’s been hanging out too often with Ian not develop some manners.

Teacher Girl smiles as she takes his hand.

They end up missing the game. Mickey knows which team has won even if there a good fifteen meters away. There’s no way he’ll miss the bubbly sound of Yev’s laughter. It’s one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. Screw anyone who think he’s a fag for believing so.

“We missed the end,” Blondie tells him balatedly.

Mickey shrugs. “Nah, it’s fine. Lil’ punk’s gonna blackmail me for ice cream _and_ pie.”

“You know, Mickey, you’re a really good dad,” she says, taking another piece of the kitchen paper that he pre-cut.

A blush—a light one—colors Mickey’s neck. He awkwardly hands her the another piece. “Uh, thank.”

Blondie’s smile grows a little bit. “It’s true…” she trails off, hand lingering in the air with the tissue. “I hope it’s not too forward if I—”

“Hey, babe.” Ian slides up beside Mickey, seemingly materializing from thin air— with all the sweat, grass, and still clinging to him. The scent to him makes Mickey’s knees a little weak. “You missed the game.”

“Get’off me, man, gonna ruin my shit too,” Mickey complain albeit making no move to turn away. “Yev’s gonna make us to get pie, ya know.”

“And ice cream,” Ian adds. “S’alright I packed us extras.” He turns to look at the unsuspecting teacher straight in the eye. “ _All_ of us. You should have played. Missed ya. ‘member all are happy memories on the field?“

The way he moves immediately makes it clear that he isn’t just talking about baseball. This time, Mickey’s entire face turns red as kiolaid.

“Ye-uh-yeah”

“I think that was my fault, Mr., uhm, I’m sorry I don’t think I caught your name…” The teacher stammers.

Ian puts on one of his EMT-smiles. “Gallagher. Yevgeny’s other dad.”

All the tan drains out if her face. “But Yevgeny’s a Milko—v”

“—we’re working on his adoption,” Iam cuts her off, his tone tauntingly sweet. “Mickey and I filed the papers a few weeks ago. Just need Yev’s mom to sign off in somethings. Can’t you believe it? Hiw long have we been waiting, Mick, five—six years. Yevy was still in diapers!“

Her mouth nearly drops to the floor. “How long have you two been…?”

“Together? Seeing each other? Fucking?” Ian finishes for her. “Together for five. Seeing each other _officially_ for six. Fucking for more than a decade. Hard to answer that actually. The Southside isn’t really homo-friendly but I’ll tell you this though—I’ve been in-love with him since I was fifteen—hey, oww!“

Mickey pulls back his elbow. He doesn’t turn to the teacher though. His eyes are only for Ian  “You was thirteen when we met. _I_ was fifteen.”

“Yeah,” Ian says knowingly. “Aww,” he nuzzles his five o’clock shadow against the side of Mickey’s face, grinning while his eyes catch Blondie’s baffled expression. “you counted! I was thirteen when we started _fucking_. Took me a while to figure out I more than liked you. That was after the army.”

Mickey remembers that too. The day he found Ian in the stupid bar, wearing that stupid glittery tank too, serving those stupid fags, is still the best and worst day of his life. He thought he’d all but lost Ian fucking Gallagher from his life.

“Fuckin’ had to carry your skinny ginger-ass.”

Ian finally tears his gaze away from Mickey’s admirer, smiling like a fool. “You love me, and _especially_ my ass.” Mickey doesn’t correct him. His smile grows even wider. “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

Mickey simply leans into his embrace.

“Damn right we figured it out,” Ian says, turning back to the young woman. “Just to be clear: this one is already taken.” The _‘bitch, please’_ remains unspoken and the ‘ _try and you die’_ look is even louder.

The girl nods and bolts.

Mickey, as one can guess, blushes down to his neck—red like koolaid.

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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> 
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